Holy Markings in the Tomb

The ghostly figures faded to ash as the hum from the magical mace in the center of a room went from a dull thrumming to completely silent. All that was left on the floor were the cloaks they wore. The party members could make them out distinctly; the holy regalia of Osiris.

Oskar sat down, his skin notably dried out, cracks forming near his fingernails and lips, as if the moisture from his body had been drawn out of him and scattered among the dry, dusty room covered in dirt older than any of them and grains of countless sand.

Whatever those things were, they were at one point worshipers of the same god as their very own Talia. Now though? Now they existed in unlife, more akin to the path Edith walked than their old master in heaven. First a magic transportation device, then minotaurs in a maze. Now odd specters? What more strange things did this pyramid hold for them...and at the end. Would they find the stargem they came to collect. Worse yet, if this was only the 2nd of 5, what more awaited them in this desolate desert.